Two of a Kind
by Alter Ego X
Summary: Barbara Gordon has managed to discover Batman's identity. But will Bruce let her join him in his crusade against crime in Gotham? And who is this mysterious catburglar who keeps giving him the slip? Post-TDK
1. Gordon's Girl

This story is full of firsts for me. It's my first fanfic with no original characters in the limelight, the first story of any kind where the characters curse, and it's probably going to be the most violent thing I've written yet. Because of the language and violence, I am rating this story pg-13(reader beware). I do not own any characters in this except the ones not in the comics or movies that I created out of necessity.

If anyone connected with the production of the new Batman movies reads this and would like to use the plot for one of the movies, feel free to contact me.

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Clouds covered the skyline and coated the city with rain. It made for a dreary evening. And a perfect opportunity for a theft.

Five figures hustled across the nearly empty street to an antiques shop. While one kneeled to pick the lock, the others stood guard, keeping a lookout for cops. The police may be crooked enough to ignore the big drug dealers and crime lords, but they had no qualms about dragging some juvenile delinquents downtown.

With a soft click the door opened.

"Way to go, Barb," the leader purred. She was a tall, slender woman of about 29 years who governed her small band with a strict hand. The troop slipped inside and began searching for fenceable items.

"Kat." The leader moved away from the jewelry case she was admiring when Barb called her. The girl had found twin ivory cat statues. Kat clapped her lieutenant on the shoulder.

"They're beautiful." She carefully picked them up and slipped them into her bag, along with a few other treasures.

Suddenly, they heard sirens approaching.

"We musta set off a silent alarm," one of the group said.

"Run for it!" Kat fled the shop and sped down an alleyway further down the street. The others weren't far behind, but before they could make it to the alley, 2 police cars cornered them.

"Get down on your knees and put your hands on your heads." The cops pulled out their pistols and aimed at the teenagers.

"Shit," Barb cursed under her breath and complied.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

James Gordon, the latest police commissioner, walked out of the interrogation viewing room, sipping a cup of coffee. One of the detectives had just finished an unsuccessful interrogation of one of the mob's thugs.

After Batman helped take down Falcone, a power struggle erupted with every big shot in the city fighting the others for the crime boss' vacant position. Maroni came out on top in the end but was killed by Harvey Dent. Now, things had escalated to an almost city-wide gang war as the punks fought for the top spot. The lieutenant had his hands full trying to keep bodies off the street.

He sat at his desk, only half focusing on the report he needed to read, when some street cops walked by guiding 4 teenagers in handcuffs.

"I swear these punks are getting younger every year," he sighed. The oldest of the 4 scowled at him. As the last was marched by, Gordon froze.

"Barbara?" The girl turned, and her expression darkened.

"Hi, dad."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Gordon watched from behind the one way mirror as his daughter was questioned. She ran away over a year before. They had had a big fight, about what he couldn't recall. In the end, she had stormed up to her room, packed a bag, and climbed out the window.

"The security camera at the shop showed five of you." The detective's voice pulled Gordon back to the present. "Who did we miss?" Barbara sat, arms crossed, silent and scowling.

"I understand that you don't want to say anything without a lawyer," the officer continued, "But come on Barbara, it's just me. I've known you since you were a baby." She didn't even look at him, but kept her eyes straight ahead.

The commissioner exited the viewing room and opened the door to the interrogation room.

"Why don't you go get a coffee, Matt?" The detective hesitated for a moment but left the room when Gordon gave him a commanding look. Once they were alone, he took the seat opposite his daughter.

"Where've you been, Babs?"

"My name's _not_ Babs," she growled.

"Alright. So, Barbara, where'd you go when you took off?" She looked up into his concerned eyes, unaffected.

"Away," she answered. He nodded sadly.

"Why'd you come back?"

"You really want to know? Fine. I ran away because you pissed me off for the last time. I was sick of livin' in this shithole. So I left and hooked up with a crew. But it got too hot in…where we were, so we came here thinkin' the corruption infestin' the city would be a good cover. Guess we thought wrong." She leaned back in the chair and looked at the floor.

Gordon stood slowly and walked over to the door. He paused, hand on the doorknob.

"I'm glad you're okay." He opened the door and exited, letting the detective back inside.

"I want a lawyer."

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Sooo...what do you think? Good so far, right? Well, I had started this before The Dark Knight came out(best movie ever!) so after I watched it, I had to go back and edit things since this takes place after it. Don't expect the next chapter right away...but be sure to review right now!! I take any and all criticisms to heart so don't feel shy about stating your mind. Thanks!


	2. Family Matters

I was surprised by the lack of reviews but maybe that was because the first chapter didn't have alot of action. This one is better. Hope you enjoy it and please remember to review!

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When the lawyer arrived, the four teenagers were brought to the interrogation room. The lawyer was a middle aged man with black hair speckled with grey neatly combed back. He wore a gray suit and carried a worn leather briefcase. Standing across from the teenagers, he opened the briefcase and pulled out four manila folders and slowly took a seat.

"I am Mr. Bowers and I'll be representing each of you in court." He held out his hand to the youths. After a few tense moments with none of them moving, he withdrew his hand. "Now then," he said, folding his hands on the table in front of him, "I'd like you to tell me exactly what happened tonight."

"Why?" one boy asked.

"Because I will need to know all of the facts if I'm going to defend you well." He was given several quizzical looks.

"Surprise info at the trial will be bad," another boy explained.

"How do we know there ain't a cop watchin'," the oldest asked.

"I can assure you that this discussion will be completely private. Any secrets will be just between us." The boys explained how they had committed a few thefts in Metropolis, how the police had gotten close to catching them, and how they left for corrupt Gotham hoping for safer pastures. All through this, Barb was silent. She figured that they were as good as condemned and nothing they said would help.

"What would it take to make a deal with the D.A.?" the second boy asked. This yanked the girl into the conversation.

"Well, if you could tell him about the girl who got away…Kat, you said? And testify in her trial. But that may be awhile, since they have to find her first."

"You two-faced bastard!" Barb lunged at the boy. Bowers slammed his hand down on the table, giving the two delinquents the unspoken command to sit. They obeyed. "If you're so ready to turn on us, Dag, I hope you rot in jail!"

"I wouldn't throw _you_ guys to the pigs like that," Dag retorted, "Kat ran off. Why shouldn't we turn her in?"

"She took us in! She kept the Pigs off us for years, even longer for you!" she pointed an accusing finger at the boy. "And you would sell her out 'cause she got lucky?!"

"You know the saying, 'no honor among thieves?' It's true." He sat back in his chair, rather steamed. Barb threw a hard punch past the first boy's head and hit Dag square in the jaw, knocking him to the floor.

Mr. Bowers began to slip the files back into his briefcase. "If you do not want my help, I do not have to give it. Enjoy defending yourselves."

"Wait," the youngest boy pleaded, "I don't wanna go to jail." The two irritated teens slouched back in their chairs, arms crossed. The man nodded and returned the files to the table.

"Smart choice. Now then," Bowers said, opening one of the files, "Henry Green." He looked at the oldest boy. "You turned 18 last November, correct? You'll be tried as an adult. That means that it will be easier for the prosecution and, if you're convicted, the sentence will be more severe than if you were still a juvenile. And I see you've been charged with assault before. That won't make it any easier."

"Alberto Vega." He opened the next folder, which was slightly thicker than the others. Barb snickered and mumbled "Alberto?" Dag gave her an angry glare. "You have quite a record," the lawyer continued, "drug possession, breaking and entering, burglary; and you've already spent 8 months in a secure facility. You'll probably be adjudicated and charged as an adult also. And it will be hard to convince the jury vote our way."

"Jacob Wolfe and Barbara Gordon. Since you both have no prior criminal record, you'll be tried as juveniles. If we're lucky, I'll be able to get you community service and probation." He glanced at his watch and gathered his papers. "We'll discuss the proceedings again at a later time."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Barbara waited for another hour in the department holding cell before Commissioner Gordon came to get her. Jacob, who's aunt happened to be in the city on business, had already left with her. The other two would have to stay overnight.

On the way home, father and daughter rode in silence. The rain still pelted the city, maintaining to the dreary atmosphere.

"Jimmy will be glad you're back," he said at last. The girl didn't respond, but continued to stare out the window. The car pulled up to the Gordon residence and stopped. The man turned off the engine, stepped out, and paused.

"Are you coming?" With an aggravated sigh, she got out and slammed the door shut. They walked into the house, one behind the other.

"Honey?" Mrs. Gordon stepped out of the kitchen when she heard her husband's voice.

"It's about time you got home. Did something happen?" She froze when she saw her daughter.

"Barbara?" she said softly.

"Dad's home!" A young boy with messy brown hair and superman pajamas ran into the room and attached himself to his father.

"Hey there, sport. What are you still doing up?" The two of them exchanged a warm hug.

"Babs!" The boy left his father and leapt into the arms of the girl behind him. "You're back!"

"Yeah, Jiminy, I'm back." James Gordon jr. chuckled when she used her nickname for him.

"I missed you, Babs." He rested his head on her shoulder.

"I missed you, too, kid." A smiled played at her lips as she hugged him. "Now go get ready for bed before mom gets after you."

"Okay." He smiled and went off to obey.

"You let him call you 'Babs.'" Gordon observed.

"He's eleven, dad," she replied, as if that was explanation enough.

Barbara found her room just as she left it; her rock posters still clung to the walls, her stereo still had her favorite CD in it, and her work table still had her tools and the odds and ends she liked to tinker with strewn across it. The only difference was that her bed was neatly made with baby blue and green sheets instead of the rumpled crimson and black ones that were usually on it.

Sighing, she pushed the play button on the stereo and sat down at her work table. She set to work on a project she had left unfinished.

"What'cha doing?" Jimmy had snuck in unnoticed, nearly making her drop her tools.

"Just fiddling." She kept her eyes on what she was doing.

"Mom says we should be getting to bed."

"Alright." She continued tinkering, he continued watching. After a moment, she looked up at him. They both had the same blue eyes as their father. Sometimes it surprised her how much little Jimmy looked like James Gordon.

"Okay." She set down her tools and stood. "Come on, I'll tuck you in."

"Why'd you leave, Babs?" Jimmy asked as she tucked his blanket around him. The girl paused and glanced up at the boy's innocent eyes. Glancing from side to side as if making sure the coast was clear, she leaned toward him secretly.

"I was on a secret mission," she whispered. The boy's eyes widened. James Gordon stopped as he walked by and listened from the doorway, smiling. Mrs. Gordon soon joined him.

"Is that why you cut your hair?" Barbara touched her shoulder-length red hair. Before she had ran away, it had reached half-way down her back, but she had always found it to be too much trouble.

"Yep. I couldn't risk anyone recognizing me." She winked.

"And the earrings? Are they bombs or something?"

"Well, this one," she turned her head to the left, showing two new peircings at the top of her right ear, and touched the ear cuff. "This one actually holds microfilm." By now, Jimmy was more in awe of his sister than ever.

"And take a look at this." She rolled up her right sleeve, revealing a barbed wire tattoo circling her upper arm.

"Cool!"

"When did you get that?!" Gordon asked, surprised.

"After the earrings. A few months after I left," she said nonchalantly.

"Can I get one, too?" Jimmy asked excitedly.

"No!" both parents exclaimed at once.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Barbara worked for over an hour at her worktable. She hadn't been able to afford some of the tools she needed, so her first projects had been making them. She had always been good with mechanical and technological things. For the 5th grade science fair, she had built a robotic spider that she programmed to pick up a pencil. Her father had tried to help but ended up completely lost. She chuckled to herself as she remembered how he had stumbled through, scratching his head the whole way.

He really did love her, she knew that. And she loved him; he was her father after all, and he looked out for her. They just couldn't get along most of the time.

She pushed aside the unpleasant memories welling up and refocused her attention on the button-sized tracking beacon in front of her. She had started it as a way to keep track of her brother when babysitting and had planned to hake a handheld video screen for it. When she ran away, she had seen no use for it and left it behind. While away, however, she had acquired an expensive Palm Pilot and had started reprogramming it with a tracking system.

Now she pulled out the Palm Pilot from her pocket where she always kept it and placed it on the table. For the next half hour or so, she aligned the beacon and the system's frequency with that of a satellite in orbit above the city until the screen showed an aerial layout of the city. A small yellow dot blinked over the Gordon residence.

"Yes," she said triumphantly. "Now time for the field test." She pulled on her black jacket, and snuck out the window with the beacon and the Palm Pilot in her pocket.

Once she was a few blocks away, she pulled out the Palm Pilot. The yellow dot now blinked at the corner of Rogers and 58th. She looked up and read the street signs in front of her. Rogers and 58th. She smiled.

Barb continued to wander the city, sometimes going down side alleys, and occasionally glancing at the glowing screen.

Despite the late hour, she was not alone on Gotham's dark streets. Tall, slender women in miniskirts and halter tops stood along the sidewalks, enticing passersby to come and play; Gruff looking men hung around in groups, passing around lit joints. She avoided and ignored their cat-calls and hormone-driven suggestions, but not everyone can just be ignored. A group of 7 guys, the youngest about her age, the oldest in his late twenties, began following her. Barb just rolled her eyes and kept walking, hoping they'd get bored after a few blocks and leave her alone. No such luck.

She turned down an alley while checking her position on the Palm Pilot. When she looked up she saw a 10 foot fence about three-fourths of the way down. She didn't mind having to scale a simple fence, but unfortunately, something else would detain her.

"Hey, chika." the boys spread out, surrounding her while the another, apparently the leader, circled, examining her like a prize fighting dog.

"A pretty thing like you shouldn't be out all alone at night. Those streets can be a dangerous place. Me and my boys would be honored to escort you home." The others chuckled.

"Thank you kind sirs, but I don't need an escort, especially from a group of pigs like you," she replied with sarcastic airs. The leader's eyes grew dark as his semi-pleasant smile turned into a scowl.

"Listen, you…" he grabbed the front of her jacket. A big mistake. She glanced down at his meaty fist than looked back up at his face and gave a cheeky grin. Swiftly, her hand reached up and twisted his hand, making it release its hold. His arm twisted up so that his hand was now behind his back and his elbow was pointing up. She shoved him at the boys near the fence as they rushed to his aid, sending them sprawling. Catching sight of one approaching behind her, she kicked back hard. Clutching his stomach and sucking in air as if he may never breathe again, he fell back against his buddy. Pushing their fallen comrade aside, the remaining four advanced slowly. 2 pulled out knives that glinted wickedly in the dim lamplight, another aimed a pistol at her, the last was big enough not to need a weapon.

"Come on, girly. Play nice." The gunman grinned, showing a hideous collection of teeth stained by years of tobacco and alcohol.

Barb took a half-step back and swung her foot up at the gun. The murderous weapon clattered to the ground as its owner retreated a few steps, clutching his battered hand. O the girl punched one wielding a knife in the face, breaking his nose. He dropped to his knees, complaining nasally. As Barb moved into a fighting stance, feet apart and fists up, the thugs' eyes filled with fear. The ones that could ran away, nearly scrambling over each other to escape.

"Yeah, run away you ball-less creeps!" She yelled after them. "You'd think they'd never seen their own blood before," she mumbled to herself. Wiping off her bloody fist on her jeans, she turned around to make sure the others were down for the count. What she saw was the last thing she expected.

A tall dark shape stood in the middle of the thugs' unconscious forms. He was watching her. She stood there for a moment in shock.

"7 against 1 isn't very fair," Batman said. His voice was gruff, almost husky.

"Well," she said, back to her normal self, "I didn't want to wait around for their buddies to show up."

Without another word, the hero shot his grappling cable at the rooftop above him.

"Wait." He paused and looked back at her. "Can't a girl thank you properly?" His eyes became curious. No, more like cautious.

"Thanks," she said extending her hand out to him. Without any hesitation, he shook her hand and disappeared into the darkness. After a moment, Barb pulled the Palm Pilot form her pocket. "Thank you _very much_, Batman." The yellow dot was now moving in between the streets, as if it was being carried across rooftops.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Selina had been lucky to escape. Just like she had been lucky to find teenagers with skills like Barb and the boys had. Just like she'll be lucky again. But she didn't just rely on her luck. Before she had found her four prodigies, she had made a more than decent living with her own skills in burglary.

Once she was sure she had gotten away from the police, she made her way to the apartment of an acquaintance who owed her a few favors. He allowed her to bunk on the couch as long as she didn't cause any trouble. She spent her time dividing her attention 60-40 between the cat statues and the news. Since she had only trusted Barb with her real name, Selina was fairly confident that she would be safe. But she kept a well-honed ear out just in case.

"You two are so purrfectly lovely, darlings." She stroked the ivory cats affectionately.

"Another sighting of the vigilante known as the Batman has been reported," the news anchor announced. Selina sat up, her interest piqued.

"Earlier this evening," the anchor continued, "As the 1st Bank of Gotham was closing its doors, 4 armed men forced their way inside. Threatening the tellers with rifles and pistols, the men demanded the money from the cash drawers. As the criminals fled the scene, a dark shape fell on them. Eyewitnesses claim that the fight lasted less than a minute and when police arrived, the robbers were tied to a mailbox.

"One witness was able to take this picture." An amateur blurred photo appeared on the screen. One could easily make out 2 dark forms on the ground, one falling, and one lunging at a shadowy form. The latter was little more than a big black blur, as if it had been moving quickly when the picture was taken. One thing that was rather clear, though, was two triangular shapes sticking up on the top of the big shape. They looked like horns. Or bat ears.

"The Batman? A man in a bat suit goes around stopping crime, no one knows who he is, and no one can catch him. Hmmmmm," she purred to herself. "Well, anything Man can do Girl can do better. I think it's time I get back to work."

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Review! I don't care if it's positive or negative, I can take all criticisms. Just review please!


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